


Weak Link

by ayumie



Category: Ragnarok (TV 2020)
Genre: Blow Jobs in a Car, Implied Incest, Laurits as Loki, M/M, Shameless Smut, established (secret) relationship Laurits/Fjor, more like established fun on the side, really bad advise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24127825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayumie/pseuds/ayumie
Summary: In which Laurits blows Fjor for the greater good. No, really.
Relationships: Laurits Seier/Fjor Jutul, Laurits Seier/Magne Seier (implied)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Weak Link

**Author's Note:**

> The bad!dirty!wrong! just keeps coming. Who am I to resist? Thanks to HotaruMuraki for beta-reading! Feedback is always welcome.

Laurits took a moment to study Fjor's cock. It was so flushed it looked almost angry, tip wet with precum, as it rose from its nest of dark curls. He leaned in to nuzzle at the base, tongue sneaking out to lap at the vein running up the underside of the shaft. That got him a low groan. Refusing to be hurried, Laurits lifted his head. The older boy looked like something out of a wet dream: Jeans and briefs bunching around his thighs, cock jutting out, expensive shirt rucked up to expose a broad stripe of toned belly. Fjor's face, too, was flushed, mouth open and panting, his usually impeccably styled hair sweaty and mussed. Not really a boy, though. A giant. It was still difficult to wrap his mind around that fact.

„Fuck, Laurits! Are you just going to stare at it all night?!“

With a positively wicked grin, Laurits held out just a few seconds longer before sucking the head of Fjor's cock into his mouth. He had been going at it for almost 15 minutes, employing all the little tricks he had learned over the past weeks. The noise Fjor made was almost desperate and deeply gratifying. Of course there was something desperate about Fjor most of the time, a brittle quality to his arrogant charm. Something to explore and exploit.

Focusing on the task at hand, Laurits slid his lips as far down the length of the shaft as he could manage, wrapping his fingers around what he couldn't fit into his mouth. His own cock was throbbing in his jeans, demanding attention, so he brought the heel of his free hand to his crotch and pushed up and in. It wouldn't be long now. Fjor's hips were jerking in spite of his obvious efforts to control himself, breath harsh and ragged as he twisted his fingers into Laurits hair, not quite pushing him down. His cum tasted sharp, briny and Laurits made a little face as he pulled away. They were in the backseat of Fjor's car and there wasn't a lot of room to move around, so he stayed in place for the time being. Looking down at the other boy, Laurits felt something almost like pity. He remembered the first time he had seen the Jutuls at school, in perfect control and somehow larger than life, lording it over their circle of friends like princelings. There was precious little of that left in Fjord just now, pale-faced and unmoving, one arm thrown over his eyes after what had been, in Laurits's admittedly biased opinion, a pretty spectacular blowjob. It was all he could do not to roll his eyes.

“It's Gry, isn't it?”

And what was it about that girl that was so irresistible? Fjor didn't quite flinch, but his body tensed and he reached down to pull up his pants. Laurits caught his wrist, taking care to keep his grip light, easy. 

“Hey, I don't mind. This is just fun, right?”

Those had been Fjor's words after all, back when he had driven him home after picking out camping gear: That they might have fun together as long as no one found out. Which was just fine with Laurits, really. For all that he couldn't resist the occasional throwaway comment, it wasn't like he actually wanted to date Fjor. He couldn't afford that kind of attention, not with Magne clearly unable to leave well enough alone and keeping the Jutuls constantly on edge. 

Laurits waited, pressing his lips together to keep himself quiet. Fjor was ancient and powerful and he had had all the time in the world to learn caution. But he'd also lost himself in the role he was playing and the urge to talk to someone – anyone – would be overwhelming. 

“My parents don't want me to see her,” he finally mumbled, words coming slowly, obviously buying time to concoct a version of events that would sound plausible to a human. “It's- it's her father. He used to work for us and now he's sick. There might be a lawsuit. And Gry- it's tough on her. We only just got together and now she doesn't know-”

Fjor broke off. Laurits still couldn't see his eyes, but the older boy's jaw was clenched, a muscle in his cheek jumping like he was struggling to bite back tears. It was quite pathetic, considering what he was. The great giant brought low by love. People ought to be writing songs about it, or something, tell tales in long winter nights around the hearth-fire. Something to make young girls weep in sympathy. Laurits wasn't the weeping type. He nodded, though, mind already busy fitting the pieces together. 

“That sucks, man.”

Fjord gave a strangled laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, it does. Maybe it's for the best, though. Maybe they're right, all of them, and Gry and I-”

No, no, no. That wouldn't do at all. Schooling his face into a sympathetic expression, Laurits shook his head.

“Hey, I wouldn't give up so easily, if I were you. I've seen the two of you together. You really care for her, right? And it's not like some stupid lawsuit has anything to do with you. You didn't do anything wrong and I don't see how it's any of your parents' business whom you date. It's their mess and they ought to deal with it.”

Confusion and pain were plain in Fjor's eyes and, underneath it all, foolish hope. Elation was bubbling in Laurits's chest. He had no idea how he knew what to say, but the words just kept coming, and, in the moment he spoke them, he almost believed them himself. A fucking agent of true love, that was what he was. It was kind of turning him on, what with the way Fjor was looking up at him, doubt warring with the need to believe.

“What if she doesn't want me?”

“Gry? She's in love with you, man. She said so herself.”

“Gry told you she loves me?!”

It wouldn't do to be too obvious. Laurits let his eyes slide away, shifting a little for good measure.

“Not exactly. Look, I probably shouldn't say...”

Even as his own voice trailed away, Laurits knew that he had him. Fjor was hanging on his every word, all suspicion forgotten over the promised reassurance that a pretty girl loved him. Laurits held out a little longer, reveling in the sense of power. Finally he relented.

“She was talking to Magne. It was during that hiking trip. Before that thing with your dog. They were talking and I happened to be nearby. He's got a crush on her and, well, you know my brother – you've got to spell things out for him.”

Magne's name seemed to shiver in the air between them, but Fjor didn't even notice.

“Gry said that she's in love with me,” he repeated, slowly savoring the words. For a moment, Laurits found himself hesitating. What he was doing right now, the events he was setting into motion might well result in someone's death. Perhaps Fjor. Perhaps Gry. He knew what the Jutuls were, what they were capable of. It wasn't like he wanted anyone to die.

A sudden gust of wind drove rain against the windshield, the explosion of noise enough to make both of them jump. Somewhere in the distance, lightning split the sky. Fjor looked up, a frown crossing his face.

“Another thunderstorm.”

Grateful for the distraction, Laurits shrugged.

“We've been getting a lot of those lately. Anyway-”

Twisting, he leaned over to punch a few buttons on the car's stereo. Fjor's iPhone was connected to the speakers and the Jutul's odd, electrifying music rose like a flood. It pulsed in the air, through their bodies, hungry and dark and compelling. Instantly the look in Fjor's eyes changed and they were kissing, mouths greedy and rough, the sting of teeth only spurring them on. Laurits let himself be pushed back and down, gasping as Fjor's hands jerked at the fly of his jeans. Obliging, he spread his legs, back arching as the older boy pressed down between them. Fjor was hard again, moving with sinuous grace as he ground their cocks together. It was good, all heat and friction with only the thin fabric of Laurits's underwear separating skin from skin. He let his head fall back and, after a moment, Fjor's hand settled over his throat, fingers splayed, not quite squeezing. Lust shuddered down Laurits's spine and his hips jerked up. Part of him wanted to get rid of the rest of their clothes and feel that hard body against him, inside of him, for real. To be held down and taken with the drive of the music pumping through them, wild and rough and young again. No. Delicious as he was, Fjor wasn't the one who should be fucking this shiny new body for the first time and Laurits wasn't far enough gone to pretend otherwise. This would have to be enough, coming like this and then he'd go home and perhaps Magne would be in the kitchen to see him come in. Laurits's hips stuttered as he imagined his brother looking up, lips parting as his nostrils flared. Magne would be able to smell everything on him: sweat and sex and Fjor. It'd be-

Squeezing his eyes shut, Laurits moaned, the harsh stab of lust taking him by surprise. His heart was pounding in time with the music, cock so hard it ached as he squirmed against Fjor's thrusts. The the hand on his throat tightened a little, fingers flexing and then he was coming hard, biting his lip to keep from screaming what might be a name.

Laurits lay still while Fjor rummaged through the glove compartment for wet wipes, face turned into the bend of his arm, afraid of what might be showing in his eyes. They didn't talk much during the short drive back. The rumble of thunder was stronger as Laurits climbed out of the car and the few steps up to their small, rundown house were enough to soak his hoodie. Magne wasn't home.

The End


End file.
